Out of the Darkness
by Dhark
Summary: Wrote this one a year ago...I liked it. Hope you do.


  
OUT OF THE  
DARKNESS  
Two short monologues  
By Matthew Vazquez  
  
ERICH: A WWII Veteran, one of the few who survived the first waves to attack the beaches in Operation Overlord. He was not widely known, and had few friends, most of which were lost in the war. Since the war's end, he has found a new standard in living, taught to him by a pilot and friend who died in the war.  
  
JAMES: Came from a family brought to the Southern United States where they were scattered as slaves. Since their freedom in 1863, the reunited family kept its home in the South in a small, out of the way town in Alabama, where James was born in 1923. In spite of several racial attacks on him and his family, James kept his home near his parents' and raised a family of his own, including his wife and son.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
OUT OF THE DARKNESS  
Two monologues  
  
The stage is simple, decorated only with two chairs, one down right, and one down left. Surrounding the chair that is down left, are two walls, one directly behind and one off to the left. The wall on the left has a window facing the unseen yard off left. An optional partition running up and down through center stage may be used to isolate the two separate scenes, but is not required.  
When the curtain rises, the stage is dark. Erich is already seated in the stage right seat, while James is standing by the window stage left.  
  
Slowly, the lights rise over Erich stage right, only enough to light the area immediately around him, and leaving the rest of the stage blanketed in darkness.  
ERICH: I can still remember it all as though it were yesterday. We had been training for God knows how long, just getting ready for the big day, Overlord, as it was then called. Every day, training, running, firing practice, close to a couple hundred rounds a day.  
I had a friend in the RAF, the Royal Air Force. Every day he would fly a couple of sorties over the Reich. He would tell me stories about dog-fighting the Focke-Wulfs and Messerschmitts over France, telling me that it would only be a matter of time before we would be able to free the people under the Nazi oppression. Heh. (Shakes his head.) He never once said they deserved it. I never once heard him say that the Nazis deserved to be destroyed. And he was among those who had suffered the most. Never before had I seen someone so hated look upon it so...( Pauses, as if thinking of a proper word) ...as so unimportant in how it effected his life. He was best described as a man who put honor before pride. I saw him get ready for a mission once. He crammed into the cramped cockpit of his Hawker Typhoon tank buster, started the motor, and then said a quick prayer while fingering that star he used to have around his neck. He was a good man, as good as they come.  
When the day finally came, the troops huddled into the LSTs and made ready to charge. (Lights fade slightly, taking on a bluish tint. A thin fog floats onto the stage.) Planes charged overhead, rushing to help clear the beaches in advance, but I did not see his, he must have been in a later wave. The LSTs set off, plowing ahead through the choppy waters for France. Those who had not realized it before suddenly came to face the fact that it was time, time to charge ahead and show 'em what the Allied troops were made of. Several more planes flew over, but I missed all but one American Mustang. The recently painted black and white "invasion stripes" under its wings and tail made me shiver. It would probably be one of the only ways to know our birds from theirs. I couldn't help but think What if we shoot our own man down? (Sounds of distant gunfire and explosions begin and slowly grow louder. Lights shift from their bluish tint to a red tint.)  
The LSTs hit ground and opened up to the sounds of a heated battle. We charged out like machines, running for the shelter of scattered tank buffers. Bullets were flying everywhere. Sounds of men screaming, some in pain, some in fear, some in determination, filled the air. I ducked behind one of the buffers and heard the plink of bullets by my ear. The sound made me cringe, but the anticipated pain never came. I was safe.  
Some more planes flew overhead. (Sounds of propeller-driven monoplanes can be heard as the battle sounds rage on in the background.) This time I recognized the numbers under my friends Typhoon. He found a target, one of the pillboxes, and let fly the rockets that were tucked under the fighter's wings. The weapons found what they were seeking and a part of the green embankment ahead of me launched skyward as an orange fireball lit the haze. (There is a loud explosion as the sound of a plane flying overhead is clearly heard. The sounds slowly die down.)  
Smoke was everywhere. If there is one thing I will never forget, it is this. The explosions, the morning haze, and an overcast sky made for somewhat of an unnatural darkness that surrounded everything. There was no blue sky, there was no beautiful horizon, just dark gray. I do not think anyone can say when, exactly, but out of the darkness, the Luftwaffe came. Now the battle raged from every direction. Some of the fighters took to strafing the ground troops, while others, mainly the agile Focke-Wulfs and Messerschmitt 110s, took on the war birds.  
I was stuck in my place, held back by pillbox fire and strafing aircraft, and I had nothing better to do but watch the fighting in the sky.  
One of our Spitfires demolished one of the slower Me110s, (shows the battle using his hands, making slow moving gestures and simulating a dogfight as best he can) sending the flaming wreckage falling to earth beyond my vision over the embankment. Another plane, this time one of the American P-47 Thunderbolts, was soon to join it as a lucky Wulf caught it broadside. The battle went on like this, growing deadlier as each moment passed. Then came the sight I never wanted to see.  
(Sounds of a plane can be heard again. Cue machine gun fire and crashes to Erich's description.) I had found my friends Typhoon amidst the chaos and followed it as he sent one Wulf (first machine gun play, followed by a crash), and then a 110 crashing down. (Second machine gun burst and second crash. Erich pauses and takes in a deep breath.) But then he got flanked. Two more 110s came from either side and opened up on him. He didn't stand a chance, and the crippled fighter was doomed to crash. I watched as the Typhoon jerked upward, stood on its tail for a brief second, and then turn nose down. I watched the Hawker fall, not wanting to believe what I was about to see.  
(He pauses, recalling the event, but not saying any more for a short while.)  
I never saw a man be so hated by another. I hope I never do. But he showed me something, even when one hates you, you do not need to hate them back.   
BOTH: (as lights fade on Erich and rise on James, again lighting only part of the stage, leaving the rest in darkness.) It is hard, so very hard.  
  
The lights are now up on James, a black man in his home. He is standing by the window looking out at his yard and shaking his head.  
JAMES: It is hard to recall such events. Even harder to tell them. It is not difficult to remember, rather its harder to forget. Telling it, though, or remembering it, is hard on a man's feelings. (Goes to his seat and sits)  
It was the night of the New Moon, which meant it was darker than usual out. I would say it was near 11:30, I had stayed up, listening to the radio shows that they had. I don't know why, but I suddenly had the urge to get up and walk to the window. (Stands and walks to the window) The sight gave me chills.  
I had heard from some friends what it was like to suddenly see them out there, but actually living it was worse than one can imagine. They were just standin' there, all dressed up in those white robes, all holdin' a lit torch. (A flickering red light rises outside of the window, giving the image of something burning outside but at some distance.) One of them said somethin', but I couldn't hear it. The some of the guys in the back ran up holdin' one of them burnin' crosses and just threw the thing on my yard. I was mad and angry, enraged to think that someone could act like this.  
I thought a few things while I just stood there, but it would do me no good to mention them. (Pauses) Well, there is one. I realized that the one way they would win, was if I did just what I was plannin' on doin'. That was exactly what they wanted. I shook my head and put my foot down. There was no way I would give them what they wanted.  
I guess when they saw I was going to do nothin' they decided to do it themselves. They all marched toward my house, shouting and actin' every bit like a mob. (Sounds of a mob can be heard, distant yet noticeable.) They told me that if I didn't come out, I would die the next day.  
I know that they always tell you to call the cops when things like this happen, but not in a small town like this. In these kinds of towns, the cops are White Knights too.  
Things then started takin' a turn for the worse. One of them must have left and cut the power to my house. (All lights cut, save for the 'fire' outside the window; reds, oranges and yellows allow only James' silhouette to be seen.) I just stood there in the darkness, watchin' the flames on their torches dance. I could have run upstairs and grabbed my old shotgun, but I could see the next days headlines. BLACK MAN KILLS WHITE MEN OUTSIDE HIS HOME. Not a word would be mentioned in the front-page article that I had done it out of defense, not a word. The only other headline, and this one would appear somewhere buried in the paper where no one looks, would have been BLACK MAN KILLED BY KKK. The article itself would probably be shorter than the obituary report. But then there was another ending, they would just up and walk off, and no one would die.  
(James lets silence fall as the 'flames' fade and normal lights return, again lighting the stage as it had been in the opening of his story.)  
They didn't leave, though, and I had to buy a new door after the doctor let me out of the hospital. And I probably bought that door from one of them. (Shakes his head as he sits back down) The world ain't right everywhere. There are people who work at makin' it a living hell for many. But I figure the only way I can contribute to makin' it better is to not turn into one of them.  
  
(The lights now come on over Erich, and stay up on James. Erich is sitting, thoughtful and seemingly far away. James, too, takes up this appearance, as if remembering some old time before the thing he spoke of happened. The two freeze in that position as the lights fade to black and the curtain closes.)  
  
Curtain call. Note: Both actors are still in character for the curtain call.  
(Lights go up on Erich who pulls a golden chain with the Star of David on it out of his pocket. He admires it for a moment, replaces it in his pocket, and smiles meaningfully at the audience. Lights fade on Erich and rise on James. James is standing by his window, looking out at seemingly nothing. He turns and casts a mournful smile at the audience, and returns to looking out the window as the lights fade on his side of the stage. Curtain falls, house lights go up.)  
(c)2000  



End file.
